


bliss

by thegoddamnhat



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Kissing, Love, M/M, Post-Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 05:02:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18462023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegoddamnhat/pseuds/thegoddamnhat
Summary: bliss /blɪs/(noun)- perfect happiness; great joySherlock and John talk about Sherlock adopting Rosie. There's fluff and angst, because apparently I love pain.





	bliss

"Sherlock?"

"Hm?"

Sherlock and John were lying on the couch in 221B, Sherlock's head in John's lap. They'd had Chinese takeaway, and boxes of noodles and spring rolls had been licked clean. They had put Rosie to bed, and were now watching a terrible rom-com on TV.

John was mostly just messing with Sherlock's hair, occasionally glancing at the TV to see what Sherlock was talking about. Sherlock was appalled by how achingly obvious it was that the wife had cheated on her husband. 

''Look at the state of her hair," he said, in a matter-of-fact manner, "It's so incredibly stiff. Maybe she could have just left it as it was. But no, she chooses to go overboard and get it all styled up. For goodness' sake, it's only seven in the morning! Also her lips. She's made an attempt to prevent him from noticing they're swollen. Hence the excessive lipstick. Also-'

"Sherlock," John repeated softly, and Sherlock looked up at his boyfriend.

_Boyfriend._

Sherlock had never imagined that he would have a boyfriend, let alone a boyfriend who he'd been hopelessly in love with for some five odd years. And who also happened to be the wisest, bravest and kindest human being he'd ever had the good fortune of knowing.

John Watson was his boyfriend. John Hamish Watson.

He wondered when someone would pinch him and make him realize that it was all a dream, just a perfect little fantasy he'd conjured in his mind. It hadn't happened. Not for 124 days (yes, he was counting). So it probably was true. He looked at John's face, his dark blue eyes, blonde-grey hair, the slight lines on his skin, and touched his hands, which were rumpling up Sherlock's hair. Very warm. Very solid. Very real. Sherlock didn't deserve this. 

"Yes?" Sherlock said, sitting upright. John looked slightly apprehensive, maybe even nervous.

"We need to talk," he said. Sherlock's mind went into overdrive.

_He's going to break up with me. He's going to move away with Rosie, far away from me. He's finally realized I'm no good for him._

Sherlock knew it was just his insecurities talking, and that John was definitely not going to move away with Rosie, but he couldn't stop himself from thinking that way.

He wished he could make his brain shut up sometimes. A lot of times.

"What about?" Sherlock said, keeping his voice as calm as he could. 

"Sherlock... It's nothing bad, I promise. I'm just worried about how you'll take it." John said gently.

Sherlock took a deep breath. "Okay," he said. "Tell me if you think it's alright."

"Okay," John said. He was looking Sherlock straight in the eye. "So, we're dating, right?" Sherlock started panicking again.

_Where on earth was he going with this?_

"I would say that we are. Though, of course, if you think otherwise..." he said, in a choked little voice.

John stared at him, wide-eyed with shock. 

"Sherlock, do you honestly believe I'd think otherwise? Of course we're dating."

He held Sherlock's right hand, between both of his own, and kissed it. "I love you."

He reached up and kissed Sherlock's cheek. "I love you with every fibre of my being, with all of my heart and soul." 

He put his arms around Sherlock's neck and pressed his lips to Sherlock's. It was a gentle kiss, slow and soft and sweet and conveyed so much love. "I love you so, so much." 

He smoothed Sherlock's curls back and kissed his forehead. "You know that, don't you?" he said, his eyes scanning Sherlock's face for any sign of discomfort. 

Sherlock grinned. Oh, God, he was so far gone for this man.

"Yes," Sherlock said, slightly giddily. John's kisses always left him giddy. "I love you too. So much. More than I ever thought I would."

John smiled fondly at him and put his head on Sherlock's shoulder. Sherlock put his arm around John's waist and pulled him close."I was thinking," John said, "about us. About you, me and Rosie. Our family." 

_Our family._

Sherlock loved the sound of that. Were they a family? Well, him and John were dating, and they were raising Rosie, who was John's daughter, together. So, in a way, they were, weren't they?

Sherlock had never expected to have a family of his own. But then again, he hadn't expected a lot of things. 

"I want this family of ours to become official. I want you to adopt Rosie." Sherlock stared at John, and saw that his eyes were clearly pleading with Sherlock.

"I want you to become her father. I want her to become Rosie Watson-Holmes. Our daughter. Both yours and mine."

Sherlock felt as though he'd been punched in the gut. Absolutely gobsmacked. 

  _John Watson wants me to be the father to his daughter. He wants her to have my name. He wants the most adorable child in the world to call me her father._

_S_ herlock couldn't believe it. Surely he was dreaming? 

And even if he wasn't, he couldn't say yes. There was no way he could. He was an ex drug addict and smoker. Who could fall back into his old habits at any moment. And he wasn't exactly the epitome of warmth and good manners. Of courtesy and good values. He  _couldn't_ be her father. He couldn't be Rosie Watson's father.

"John... I really appreciate it. I really do. But I don't think I can. I couldn't possibly do it." Sherlock said, hating every word that came out of his mouth, but knowing that it was true.

John looked heartbroken. Absolutely devastated.

"Sherlock, please. Please, for God's sake, get over your insecurities. I know you want to raise her. Be her father. Sherlock, she loves you. She misses you every time you're away. She notices. I just know it. I know you love her too. When you look at her, it's as if you're looking at your own daughter. She's your daughter, Sherlock. She's  _our_ daughter. You're just as much her father as I am. I love you, and I want her to have your name. Please, Sherlock. I need you to be her father.  _Please."_

His voice broke on the last word, and Sherlock felt even more miserable. 

"John, I was a drug addict. I smoked. I'm also devoid of human emotion to most people. I'm not considerate, or kind, or caring. You know that."

" _Devoid of human emotion?_ Sherlock, are you actually kidding me? Aren't you the person who smiles at me, makes me morning coffee, giggles at my silly jokes, takes care of me on my bad days? Aren't you the person who pours his emotions into the violin? Aren't you the man who literally almost killed the bastard who attacked Mrs. Hudson? Aren't you the one who tore apart a coffin when you had to hurt Molly? Aren't you the person who was willing to jump off a building to save the people you love? Sherlock, you're not devoid of human emotion. You're so far away from that. Also your addiction. I'm here with you. You won't succumb again. I know you won't. Not when you have someone to care for." His voice was shaking. 

Sherlock felt like crying. Oh, God, John loved him so much. How had he ever even thought of doubting that?

"John, I'm so sorry. I love you, I love you, I love you. I'll be Rosie's father. I will, I will, I will. God, I'm so stupid. Please forgive me." Sherlock said, desperately, his own voice trembling.

John remained silent for a while. Then he spoke softly, "Oh, you really are an idiot. But you're my idiot. My beautiful, kind, caring and intelligent yet incredibly daft idiot. Who's going to be the father to my daughter."

Sherlock gave a watery chuckle. He pulled John into his arms and hugged him fiercely. He looked into John's eyes, which were alight with happiness, though slightly moist. "I love you. Oh, I love you so much. I'm so sorry, John." 

"It's okay," John said gently, his voice still shaking a little, "but you still are an absolute idiot."

"I'm not going to deny that. Not in the least."

He pressed his lips to John's and kissed him. John wound his hands into Sherlock's hair, and kissed him back. They were both crying, hot tears spilling down their cheeks, but they were so incredibly happy too. So happy. So deep in love.

They kissed for what seemed like forever, and finally broke apart.

"John, you're obsessed with my hair." Sherlock said, still smiling so widely it hurt him.

"Well," John said, face blazing with joy, "I might be. Just slightly."

"Just  _slightly?_ Watson, whenever we kiss, your hands are always in my hair.  _Always._  Need I mention that you were just messing with my hair instead of watching the movie?"

"You need not, Holmes. It really isn't required. Besides, I had a valid reason. Your hair is tons more interesting than the movie."

"Is it?"

"Yes. It just might be." 

"Wow."

"Sherlock Holmes, speaking in informal language that normal people use? Houston, we have a problem."

"It is all your fault. You are spreading all your ordinary vernacular to my rather incredible vocabulary."

"Oh, shut up. You're becoming soft, you idiot. Just admit it."

"I will not." And he pressed John to him again. His hands, not surprisingly, went to Sherlock's hair.

"I love you," Sherlock said, in a soft little voice, "I love you so much. Thank you for this. For everything." 

"I love you too, you beautiful man. Thank you for being here with me."

They broke apart again. "Let's go to bed, you old sod." John said, his voice utterly fond.

Sherlock took his hand and held it tightly. "Okay."

And that night, as Sherlock held John in his arms, listening to his gentle breathing, and their daughter asleep upstairs, he thought he might finally know what bliss meant.


End file.
